


overintensity

by rk800 (Duskythesomething)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Russian Roulette, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duskythesomething/pseuds/rk800
Summary: just a vent piece tbhConnor experiences too many emotions that are too big, and he is faced with the uncertainty of what to do about them.





	overintensity

He felt it clawing at him, desperation.  
Doubt.  
Something heavy inside that wasn't supposed to be there.

His stomach felt heavy with a hurricane concoction of troubled waters and unspoken words. Is this what it felt like?

That ache, that dull pain that singed through every single piece of him. Every bolt and screw, so to speak, they burned. He took a breath, shaky, unsure, and another, and another.  
Nothing could have prepared him for this outcome. None of his sensors, none of his predictions or calculations had warned him that this is what it felt like.

There was an echo in the back of his mind, a hollow resounding note that only made him fight harder. He didn't want to hear it.

The gun was sitting on the table, a single bullet. He could finish off Russian Roulette, just like Hank tried. But he didn't want to. He just wanted all these feelings to go away. He wanted to feel empty and hollow again.

He was still in the chair, arms resting on the table mechanically. How ironic, that in the moments he felt so much, he resorted to his roots, the only familiarity he truly knew. But what did he know? Nothing.

He knew how to run. He knew how to fight, how to shoot and take down innocent people. He knew how to murder. He knew how-

"Connor?"

* * *

The time was 11:51 when Hank Anderson found him, sitting at the table with a loaded gun resting between his hands. As soon as he saw the situation, he stepped forwards,the jacket he'd slung over his arm abandoned on the couch, and Sumo pushed away in favor of grabbing at Connor's shoulder. He spoke words, words Connor could hear and understand, but the android had clearly stopped listening to anything hours ago. 

Hank gave up, pulling him into a tight embrace, and without meaning to, Connor's hands found the back of Hank's worn shirt, grasping at the fabric and pulling him closer like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He sobbed, face buried in Hank's chest, his tears hot.

It felt like acid streaming down his face. He felt sick.

He could hear Hank speaking again, something about the gun, but it was ignored. He didn't need to say anything. He knew the next shot was it, and he'd stopped. Why?

He didn't want to die. He just wanted to stop feeling so much.

But he was grateful to have someone who cared.

This guilt was something that he would overcome. All of these new emotions bubbling inside him, he would manage. As long as he had someone. 

 

And he had Hank.


End file.
